Robert Rorabeck

The Alamo - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I meet the girls, And then I meet the ladies: The Alamo is already coming down andAll the men are deadAnd drinking rum; the patron is dead-Someone says he is my father, But there are no clouds tonight, no way to return intoThis: This girl tonight she wore a two piece bathing suit asShe opened the door; She seemed to say that everything was going to beAlright, but I can’t say if she was sure: She wanted to start off on top of me, but she madeMe so happy, I pressed her like a buttercup or like a bluebell toThe floor: As if we were on the high planes again, drifting withoutPhonebooths; And I swore- that only the men in red and whiteLived to tell the tale, Like her toenails who kept the same names sinceChristmas; She was like a Pegasus or Christian, and it wasn’t myPlace to explain to herWhat we were fighting for.